


sense of wonder

by faith_girl222 (faithgirl)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/F, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-01
Updated: 2003-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-05 08:13:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4172454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithgirl/pseuds/faith_girl222
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The end of the beginning; Faith and Buffy in Cleveland. Adventures in tense and time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sense of wonder

Snowflakes drift down from the Cleveland sky, sparkle as they land on the ground. A winter breeze makes the swings move and the merry-go-round spin as though invisible occupants populate the hushed park. But this park has only one person in it, the blonde Slayer crumpled on the round about, feet swinging as it twirls.

The playground around her is blurred both by tears and the quickening pace of the wind. Visions dance before her unfocused eyes; afternoons at indoor ice rinks, days in snowless parks, her parents happy and together walking along holding her hands, Father lifting her into the air and twirling her around, Mother pushing her on the swing, the faint creaking of the set Father had bought when he missed her 4th birthday.

_There was a bond between them still, one neither time nor hatred nor death has managed to even scratch. But is grew tenuous then, spread so thin between so many. The battle was still fresh in their minds when the pain began, sweeping through their chests and blooming in their stomachs._

_Giles, desperate and bleeding, begged Robin to take the others away. And so he did, a Principal's smile on his face. He and Willow packed them into a plane and took off over the Atlantic as thousand lies slide past their lips. Giles watched them until he felt the pressure that had been steadily building for months cave inward._

A tug in her abdomen should alert her to Faith's presence, but Buffy is too far-gone to notice. The crunch of snow beneath Doc Martins, the merry-go-round ceasing motion, the panicked breaths of her sister Slayer don't register either. Her name is called over and over again and a sharp Slayer strength slap delivered to her cold cheek before her eyes snap into focus.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Faith snarls, straining to keep from raising her voice in the 5 am darkness.

"I don't know."

_There was more blood, all through his little shop, wrapped around first editions, soaked into upholstery. A trail, that gets thicker by the stride, lead up the stairs to his flat. Bloody handprints marked the door. A slice of light, the color of the dying sun, spilt across the floor._

_And when Giles pushed the door further open, it was all he could do not to gasp at what he saw. They were wrapped around each other, fingers threaded through damp locks, arms and legs tangled together. Blood was smeared down their bodies. They slid across the floor, towards the fire. The door was shut tightly behind him as he retreated to his books, and a mess that wouldn't clean itself up._

Tears already present but hiding behind a strand of hair glint in the darkness. Worry creases Faith's brow as she drops to a crouch, hand coming to rest on Buffy's thigh. "Buffy?" She slips onto the round about, lays herself down at the other woman's side. Faith's lips, warm from her angry breaths, brush against her mouth.

When Buffy doesn't respond, her kisses become more desperate, deeper, until she finds herself crouched over her lover's body, out of breath and trembling with suppressed fear. And suddenly hands reach up to grip Faith's shoulder, fingernails digging into her too thin jacket. Buffy's face presses into her neck, hot tears warming the icy skin.

_Days turned into weeks, weeks to months. They patrolled every night, fought and fucked and slipped into Denny's at 4 am for the ribs special. Giles stood behind his counter, loaned out his precious tomes, and watched them with cloudy eyes._

_A life was built, on lies and pain and unhealed wounds and the broken foundations of a love that turned to hate before it could wrap them in its insanity. Careful mannerisms were cultivated, brought out before their friends, like a shield against questioning looks and hurt silences._

The past weeks of silence and distance fade away as Buffy sobs against her throat. Before she knows what she's doing shushing noises are escaping her mouth, and tears are pricking her own eyes. She has forgotten, somehow, the way it hurts when she feels and watches Buffy cry.

Salty skin slides against salty skin as Faith slips back the jacket pulled tightly over Buffy's shaking frame. Kisses trail down her throat to her collarbone, then dip between her breasts. Faith smiles against them when she feels a shudder not caused by weeping. She moves lower, peeling back the layers that separate her from the other Slayer. Her own clothing is urged off by hot fumbling hands. Their breath hangs between them in the cold night air, dissolving as they begin to heat up. 

_Xander bid them farewell on Halloween, walked out the door with only a duffle bag and Andrew's precariously thin frame for company. A faint smile, bittersweet and a mockery of what it once was, curved his mouth as he climbed into his car, giving Buffy one last look, one of hope and agony and promises lost._

_As the New Year dawned they took to patrolling alone, to sleeping in separate beds. Deep scratches were covered up, bite marks hidden beneath make-up. Buffy stopped talking, didn't come back for days. Faith stopped leaving her room, ripped her books to shreds every time Buffy passed her door in favor of her own room._

Faith licks across the taught stomach, into the belly button, then journeys down to the nest of blonde curls. Her hands against Buffy's belly steady her as she parts wet lips. Tongues and teeth attack her quivering clit, sending spirals of pleasure through her. Her hips arch off the cold but quickly warming metal.

Pink polished fingers slide between snow soaked locks. Faith's tongue slips past her clit, making her mewl and shriek, a line of fire snaking its way down to her center. Quick and practiced, Faith pushes into her, savoring the taste she had desperately wanted in her mouth since she was 15.

_They nearly killed themselves the day Dawn graduated. Dew-wet grass and the cliff-edge they never saw coming. It was like dying, Buffy thought, remembered rushing air and crackling electricity. But Faith thought it was like living, remembered the quarry and Big Kids who were too afraid to do what she could without a second thought._

_The water was deep, fresh. And Buffy wanted to drown. Wanted to let the ache in her gut fade, the blurry vision of Dawn in her robes without Mother dissolve, the sick joy that she hadn't had Mommy at her graduation either disappear. Faith knew her looks too well by then, sold a little of herself to the devil to make those thoughts recede, make her sigh in bliss._

They move in tandem, senses straining to anticipate their opponents move. Teeth scrape against scars, nails against over-sensitized nerve-ends. Fingers slip and slide, in and out; a rhythm so old they never give it the slightest thought. They are so lost, now. Faith is trying desperately to be found, to keep Buffy from the fear and hatred and damage that has been imbedded so far into her very soul that no amount of love will ever be able to repair her.

Things flash before her as she climaxes. Ancient things that they both carry in their blood. Battles and wounds and moments where the world makes sense and it is all they can do to cope. A thousand thousand have come before them, but none could be like this. Could hold the essence of what makes them real in their arms, tangible and mewling and dripping with sweat. Her knees catch around Faith's waist, pulls her over the edge.

_Sometimes Buffy would wake up in their bed, and have forget that she was ever in the ground, that she ever hated this world so much that she had been willing to kill it to buy her baby a few more moments. Remembered only dark hair and tanned flesh and the frightening promise that not all the things in this world that were like her had to be her enemies._

_Coffee and old books don't mix. Giles said this to Faith every morning, and every morning she took them up to bed. Coffee and skin mix well, Anya used to say, so long as it isn't too hot, and Faith made sure it felt like heaven against her skin. And they don't. And they do. Research was thrown aside for the sipping of mocha-flavored skin, the high-pitched moans of two beings that shouldn't, by all rights, even have existed at the same time._

As they come back down, the world around them refocuses. Buffy tucks herself against face, whispers her love and thanks and apologies. Faith leans against her, murmurs in return. The clouds are drifting away, the snow finishing for the night. And they're eyes, wide and sleepy with the after-shudders of what they are capable of doing to each other, pick out the first slant of orange along the horizon.


End file.
